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a roar, the Slave reached out his huge paws.
Delrael held his ground and lunged, trying to duck under the grasping
arms. But the Slave cuffed him on the side of the head. Delrael sprawled on
the ground. His vision fuzzed, and his ears rang. He heard Vailret and
Journeyman shouting again. It didn't make sense. He didn't want to listen to
them, but he knew he couldn't lay there.
He felt vibrations in the sand as the Slave stomped forward. Delrael
half-closed his eyes, pretending to be unconscious. When he saw the Slave near
him, he snapped open his eyes and grabbed the sword with both hands. He
scrambled to his knees and put his chest, his shoulders, all of the muscles in
his arms and back into one swing. He aimed for the Slave's thigh and felt the
blade sink in, cutting into the meat of the monster's leg all the way to the
bone.
Viscous yellow blood oozed out, gushing in heavy globs. The monster
howled in agony.
Delrael rolled out of the way, but the monster kept staggering forward,
propelled by its own momentum and forgetting its pain. Blood spattered to the
ground with every step the Slave took. Delrael held the sword against him,
smearing the yellow blood across his leather armor. He tried to climb to his
feet, but was not fast enough.
The Slave of the Serpent knocked him back to the ground, then wrapped
both huge paws around Delrael's chest and jerked him into the air. The monster
shook him and squeezed.
Delrael felt the roar in his head grow louder. He couldn't breathe. He
couldn't think. Loud sounds and darkness echoed at the corner of his eyes. His
arm went numb. He couldn't control his fingers -- they went limp, and the
sword fell, embedding its point in the sand. The weight of the pommel tipped
it over, spraying dirt in the air.
For a moment he thought the Slave would cast him into the yawning black
chasm where he might fall through the map and be incinerated by his first
glimpse of _reality_. Then he saw the Serpent rear back. Its blank red eyes
blazed fire as if Scartaris himself were looking through the reptilian skull.
The Serpent opened its mouth. The fangs oozed venom like miniature
diamonds.
* * * *
Mindar blinked. Her vision snapped back into focus. She stumbled,
suddenly regaining her body.
In the back of her mind she heard a mocking voice, Scartaris laughing
at her, telling her to watch. Watch him die. You will lose. You will always
lose.
She didn't know where she was, how she had gotten there or what was
going on. She remembered nothing beyond the Cailee and the circle of
firelight. And the pain, memories sparkling with pain.
Then she saw Delrael in the grip of the Slave of the Serpent. _Watch
him die._ Scartaris had toyed with her, showed his power. Now he would have
fun by letting her witness Delrael's death.
* * * *
The Serpent drew back to strike, and Delrael closed his eyes.
The snake's head flashed downward as Delrael heard racing footsteps, a
_swish_. It all happened too fast. He opened his eyes and saw the Serpent
still descending toward him with its mouth open and fangs bared, but somehow
the head had become severed from the body. Squirting blood, the snake's head
continued its arc, struck Delrael in the shoulder and bounced off. It fell on
the sand, staring up with dead red eyes.
Mindar regained her balance and swung the rippled sword back through
empty air, flinging droplets of the Serpent's dark blood into the air.
Apparently stunned, the Slave released his grip and let Delrael fall to
the ground. His right arm was still numb, but he managed to snatch up his
sword as he scrambled out of the way. He heaved in great gasps of air. His
ribs ached. Sand crusted the globs of yellow blood sticking to his leather
armor.
Mindar stood poised and ready to fight the Slave, wearing a snarl on
her lips. Her red _S_-scar glowed. She had returned. Delrael wanted to go to
her.
The Slave pivoted around. Yellow blood drooled down the matted fur of
his leg. He seemed to ignore the pain of the wound. He stared at Delrael with
his liquid, anguished eyes. Then he gawked in awe at the ragged dripping stump
of the Serpent. His face wore an impossible, stupefied expression. When he
lifted up the dead Serpent, dark blood ran down his fingers, but the poison
did not harm him.
Then he raised his huge paws into the air in a gesture of triumph.
"_Sadic is free!_" The monster's words were clumsy, as if the flat, plated
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